


Trouble

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Romance, Romancing on moonlit nights runs in the family..., Romantic Banter, Sass, Suzie's Strange Magic OC's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5296898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's used to boys. But Griselda is pretty she can handle a Prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Gravener is the name I've come up with for Bog's Father, whom I've already talked about a few times in my other fanfics. Please no filching, loves!

He smiles at her, his fangs making him look like something out of nightmare, a beast washed with shadow, caught by moonlight. “Wonder if ye’d be here.”

Griselda doesn’t mind nightmares. Honestly, she’s a gal who rather  _likes_ things that make her heart race.  _And oh, is it racing now._ “That’s silly of ya. I told ya distinctly that I liked this grove.” 

He moves closer, and he’s so much _taller_  than her, tall and craggy and scaly and unlike any of the boys who’ve chased after her. Griselda likes her fun, and feels no guilt in taking it. But this boy doesn’t speak of  _fun_ , not with his lowered brow and his claws and his smirk that bares just a hint of those fangs. 

No, not  _fun_ at all. _Danger_. Pure dark  _danger_ , daring her to make a move, test her wits against him, move closer - 

And honestly, he isn’t even a boy, not  _really_. He’s a Prince.  _The_  Prince. 

Griselda thinks she’s woman enough to handle him. 

And that she  _might_  have a bit of a thing for danger.

Just a little.  

Those bright eyes of his -  _strange that a Goblin has such bright eyes_  - flick from her mouth to her eyes to her horns, and Griselda is thankful that she took care to polish them for the dance last night. But it’s at her hair that his gaze pauses, and she twists a lock around a finger. She’s the odd one out in her family when it comes to hair, Papa was born bald as a boulder and Mama is as dark as a crow’s wing - 

She’s a beauty. She knows it as a fact, not a point of pride. She doesn’t care. 

_Does he? Would that be all she is to him?_  

Her tone has quarrelsome edge to it now. “You always sneak up on poor, innocent, unsuspectin’ girls?”

Infuriatingly, his grin widens, his fangs on full display as he still stalks closer. “Only if Ah know they can handle it.” It softens into a smirk, but his gaze is pointed as he looks her straight on. “An’ Ah would hardly call ye  _innocent._ ” 

Griselda snorts and crosses her arms, a traitorous burn to her cheeks now. “But  _poor_ and  _unsuspecting_  are good -” 

That throws him, and he stops, his eyes going wary. “Tha’s - tha’s  _not_  what Ah  _meant -_ ” 

Oh sweet swamp water, he’s  _adorable_. Her heart melts even as she reaches for more pluck. “ _Unsuspecting_  ain’t right. I’m sharp as a snake’s fang, but… _poor_ , sure.” She shrugs philosophically, the misty night warm on her bare shoulders. “I’m just a trader’s daughter.” 

It’s the truth. Her family is not terribly wealthy nor terribly poor, but the Marsh Lands have always been bit on the ragged side, though they sure know how to throw a party. 

But the meaning behind her words is as real as it is unspoken. _I’m a commoner._

No apologies, just a fact. She can’t and won’t change who she is, even for a Prince. 

His smile is back, but his eyes are softer as he finally nears her, and his wings in the moonlight are _so_ -

_“There’s nothin’ **just**  about ye, wench.” _

His voice is low and dark and sincere, that brogue of his brushing against her like the most velvety moss - 

She tosses her head, and once again his eyes watch the swish of her locks, the auburn glinting silver in the moonlight. “Why are ya here anyway,  _Tough Guy?”_

His eyes crease, pleased. “Wanted ta see ye again,  _wench._ ” 

Griselda shoots him a stormy look, which is difficult to do considering that she needs to bite her lip to contain a girlish squeal of delight. “What  _else?”_

He pauses again, and Griselda is happy to see that she can throw him for a loop so effectively.  _That will work to her advantage if they -_

He glances up at the sky and then cocks a brow at her, a smirk on his lips once more. “An’ see if ye’d want ta watch th’ stars with me.” He then gives her that smoldering look she saw him throw at Falina last night. “Though they cannae compare ta _yer_ eyes -”

Griselda has to bend over, she’s laughing so hard. “ _Oh, **wow.**_  Aren’t  _you_  a smooth one.” She chuckles as she straightens, wiping at her eyes. “Hope ya don’t talk that way to any fancy officials, ya’d make ‘em  _swoon_ -” 

His claws clench, along with his jaw. “An’ Ah don’ need ta worry about tha’ from ye, is tha’ it?” 

She smirks at him. “I don’t swoon unless I’ve gotta good reason to.”  _So give me one._

His brow creases, and she sighs at his obliviousness before looking up at the sky, the mist swirling silver around her. “Should have tried a different approach, your highness. Stars are fine, but I like moonlight better.”

“It’s pretty on yer hair.” 

That stops the both of them, and eyes, both beady and bright, widen. The grove is full of moonlight and mist and a silence that echoes. 

He looks away, his breath sharp and short, and  _that wasn’t planned_ , that wasn’t the smooth words that one tells to all the girls,  _that was_ - 

“Ah’ll -” he grimaces, and his lean throat bobs with a swallow, and suddenly Griselda can’t stop looking at him, drinking him in, so tall and scaly and thorny, so  _different_  from any of the other boys. “Ah’ll leave ye -” 

“You should see it on your wings.” 

The words are saucy. Her tone is soft. 

Slowly he turns back to her, and she only watches him, letting him set the pace. He is the Prince, after all, and she is his dutiful subject. 

His gaze goes to her eyes before he glances away. “Most goblins dinnae have wings.” 

The words are lightly spoken, but Griselda knows a test when she hears one. “I’ve always been a fan of  _different_ , myself.”

Something sparks in his eyes at that, and the smile he gives her is almost eager now. “Ye sure ye dinnae want ta dae some stargazin’?” 

Griselda looks at the ground and  _harrumphs_. “Anyone can sit on a soggy piece of moss -” 

“Most goblins dinnae have wings.” The words are confident now, and he grins at her. “Ye want ta see wha’ flyin’ is like?” 

Her eyes widen. “ _Uh_  - I - I don’t know -” 

“Ye scared?” His eyes gleam in a way that making her heart go all twisty.  _“Wench?”_

It’s a taunt, pure and simple, and heaven help her, Griselda wants to both sock him in the face and  _grin._

Instead, she marches up to him, crossing her arms and cocking a brow. “It’s gonna take a lot more than _that_  to scare me.” She bares her teeth at him, her glower fierce. “ _Tough Guy._ ” 

He grins at her, sharp and delighted, and she can’t stop herself from grinning back, and when he reaches out a hand, she takes it readily. 

His growl is low and empathetic and full of anticipation.  _“Yer gonna be trouble, aren’t ye?”_

She smiles and tosses her hair so the moonlight will be caught in it once more. “I always have been.”   


End file.
